


Answers (Version 2)

by 17daysgreys



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:02:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13193571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17daysgreys/pseuds/17daysgreys
Summary: Jon needs to go to Dragonstone to mine Dragonglass, but he'll find someone he least expected.





	Answers (Version 2)

**Author's Note:**

> Same story as Answers, but the ending is different.

Jon  
Jon never imagined he’d be in this position, sitting in the Great Hall at the head of the table being named King in the North. He’d always just been a bastard. A stain on Ned Stark’s impeccable honor that was raised within a shadow of his trueborn children. He understands, now, Catelyn’s reservations about him. Her scornful looks, her impervious attitude towards him; he was meant to be nothing and yet he had always been a threat. To what Jon could never perceive. But now, standing in Winterfell again, his childhood home that he and Sansa reclaimed, he began to understand what Catelyn feared, what Ned tried his best to stay out of, and what Robb unfortunately died of. A crown is a heavy burden to bear and Jon had never wanted any of it.  
He wanted to sit with his family to be accepted as a Stark, for true. Even now, he’d give up his crown, Winterfell, even his life if it meant his family could be together again. At least he had Sansa. The younger sister whose nose was always upturned at him, who barely uttered a hello in passing, but the young girl who treated him like dirt died just the same in King’s Landing. Now, the Lady of Winterfell rules besides him as an equal, this is her home as much as it is his. But, his mind couldn’t help but wonder about Bran and Arya. Their fates were unknown. He prayed for a raven that would hold some shred of information, even if it were the Lannister’s claiming to have Arya’s head on a spike outside the Red Keep or some wilding clan claiming that Bran passed through their parts, he needed something.  
“Jon,” Sansa’s voice calmed him as he took another deep breath. The room was filled with Northern Lords, all of whom swore fealty to Jon after he defeated Ramsay Bolton.  
He let out a grunt to clear his throat, “My Lords and Ladies, I have a letter here from Daenerys Targareyn.” The room let out an audible gasp, and Jon simply shook his head at their indignation, “She’s invited me to Dragonstone.”  
“Do not go south,” Sansa muttered under her breath so softly that Jon barely heard her.  
“Your grace, we have more pressing matters than a foreign whore claiming the Iron Throne,” Lord Glover spat.  
“Our fight is in the North, your grace,” Lyanna Mormont stood up and commanded the room, “I thought we were done fighting Southern wars.”  
“We are,” Jon, growled lowly, “She has dragon glass, one of the only materials known to kill wights and white walkers alike. We need her as an ally.”  
The hall was silent as they began to understand just how important Daenerys would be if they were going to survive.  
« Gendry Waters, » Jon called out, much to the surprise of the hall. The young blacksmith had been smuggled out of King’s Landing by Daavos a few moons prior and he had proven to be a vital asset to their fight against the others. There was not a single day Jon did not see him in the forge working dawn ‘til dusk.  
“Yes, your grace,” Gendry replied as he stood up.  
“Will you accompany me to Dragonstone and be lead smith?”  
“It would be my honor, your grace,” Gendry responded.  
“Good, we leave in one week.”  
A week later, Jon and a few of his best men were preparing to leave for Dragonstone.  
“Starks don’t fare well in the South,” Sansa greeted.  
“Good thing I’m not a Stark then,” Jon joked. She looked at him coldly and immediately the smile wiped from his face, “I promise I’ll come back.”  
Sansa hadn’t been one for physical affection, not since the first day they’d been reunited, but she hugged him fierce and true, “You’re the last one left,” she tried to hold back her tears, “Arya and Bran are Gods know where if they’re even alive, it’s just you and me. Please don’t do anything stupid, Jon.”  
“I won’t,” he replied, “Goodbye dear sister.”  
“Goodbye Jon.”

Jon and his men pulled the small boat onto the sand in a big huff. He hadn’t expected it to be so heavy. As soon as he caught his breath he looked up to see the most daunting castle. Its dark grey stone-walls looked like a mountain, and he sighed at the stair cases that lead to its gates. However, it wasn’t the castle that caught his attention or the dragons they could be heard roaring overhead, it was a small child.  
The little girl could’ve been no older than three if Jon had to guess. She had chocolate brown hair that cascaded down her back, but her eyes were the most beautiful amethyst. She held the hand of another child, a boy Jon figured. His hair was so blonde it looked white and his eyes were a stormy grey, with a ring of blue around the irises, a grey he himself recognized to fondly.  
The two children were playing on the beach, running and chasing after one another. As his eyes traveled upwards he noticed two people, presumably the children’s parents. Their mother was wearing riding leathers and her hair was braided and cascaded down her back. From a distance Jon could tell she was beautiful. Her husband, he assumed, had the same white hair as the little boy, he must be the Targareyn nephew. The two of them were chasing one another around the beach, laughing, each other and kissing passionately, barely noticing their children or the ship of Northern lords that had arrived on their beach.  
He hadn’t paid much attention, his mind was too focused on the couple in front of him. Something seemed oddly familiar about the woman. Even Gendry had stared at them for a while, a perplexed look on his face. 

“Who are you?” The little girl asked, “Your eyes look like mother’s.”  
The wheels in Jon’s head were turning, “And where would your mother be?”  
“Up there with father,” she scoffed.  
Before Jon could reply he heard the woman screaming, “Visenya, by the Gods,” as she and her husband went running towards the children.  
Before Jon could ask any more questions he was interrupted by a, “Lord Snow,” a man greeted, a man Jon immediately recognized. His legs were still too short for his torso and his hair had darkened a bit, but Tyrion Lannister would be obvious anywhere, “I see you’ve encountered the children, soon you’ll encounter their mother,” he laughed, “Cat is a force to be reckoned with.”  
The woman was panting and heavily out of breath once she reached Jon and Tyrion. Her hair had come out of its braid slightly as well.

“It can’t be,” Jon whispered. 

Jon stared at her; he drank her in. He hadn’t imagined this would be Arya. A wife, a mother, a woman that looked so effortlessly beautiful. But why wasn’t she running to hug him, why did she not recognize him?

Gendry too looked at Arya in awe. He had known instantly that it was her and his heart had ached with excitement that she was alive. He wanted to ask her everything about where she’d been and what she had done. 

“My lord, welcome to Dragonstone,” Aegon broke the tension, “This is my wife Cat, daughter Visenya, and son Alexx.” 

Jon looked Arya straight in the eyes and said, “Please tell me you know who I am.” 

Everyone was confused, most especially Cat, “I am sorry, my Lord, but I do not know you. I’ll admit we have a similar face, but I have never been to the North.” 

“Arya,” Jon tried again, “Your name is Arya Stark. You are my youngest sister, born to Eddard Stark and Catelyn Stark.” 

“No,” she responded curtly, “My name is Cat Targareyn. Before it was Cat Connington. I only have recollection of my life in Braavos. I pray you have a good stay, my Lord. But please do not disturb me with your frivolous theories about who I am. I was no one and now I am finally someone again, do not take that away.” 

She and her family left Jon standing with his men and Tyrion. 

“You know I’m right,” Jon told Tyrion.

“You are,” he sighed. No one could deny the Stark girl. Even Jon Connington, before his passing had figured out her identity. Everyone knew, even Aegon, except for Arya herself. 

“What is she doing? Is she lying? Is she angry with me for taking so long to find her?” 

“She trained as an assassin,” Tyrion explained, “They made her forget everything. Her name, her family, her hopes and desires. For years she lived in a dark prison. She’s latched on to the identity of Cat because it’s the only thing that’s kept her safe and alive all these years. She’ll come back, you just need to give her time.” 

Jon sighed, “I just miss my little sister.” 

“She’s still in there,” Tyrion acknowledged.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like this version, it added a bit more drama. Will continue as well.


End file.
